


Hawke Legacy

by BelleWrites (sunleyemrys)



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Cancer, Death, Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 19:28:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15847845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunleyemrys/pseuds/BelleWrites
Summary: Look... Cancer is a bitch... And Marian is too young for this.





	Hawke Legacy

The Healer said it was time to say their goodbyes. First Carver, then Bethany. Leandra lingered the longest before finally departing. Marian refused to enter the room, frequenting the tavern instead. Angry in her denial as she tried to drown her rage.

Nestled in the furthest, darkest corner, she glowered at all who tried to engage. Carver finally tracked her down, stalking up to her table. He tossed his sword onto the table and sat heavily across from her. “Stop being a selfish bitch Marian.”

He snatched her mug away before she could take another drink. “Father has been asking for you. Between the haze and pain. He asks for you.” He drained the cup. “He looks so small, and and… helpless.”

“I know. I cant. Carver, I cant see him like that.” She rested her forehead against the table.

The mug shattered above her head and she looked up at him. “Stop pitying yourself! This isn’t about you. Its about him. Sober up and go talk to him. The rest of us did.” He stood, shouldering his sword. “There, message sent. Mother will be pleased at least.”

She watched him walk away, rubbing her hands over her face. “Stop being a selfish bitch.” She mocked, making a rude gesture at his back. “Ugh! Fine!” She slapped her palms on the table, “Carver! Wait up. I’m coming.”

***

She stared at the door. At the grain patterns, the splinters, the scores in the wood, results of her anger. It wasn’t the door, but the room on the other side that filled her with dread. She knew what was beyond it.

“Marian?” She barely heard him call out to her as she twisted the knob, allowing light to shine in. It was oppressively warm, heat nearly shimmered in the air. Wheezing greeted her as she pushed the door closed, plunging the room back into darkness.

“My eldest. Come here.” The sheets rustled as Malcolm shifted on bed to give her space. “What is it dearest?” He coughed into his fist, and she moved to dab the blood away. He sighed and stroked her hair.

She settled on the bed next to her father, looking everywhere but at him. She couldn’t do it. The once hale and burly man was a ghost of his former self. Hair greyed and in patches, beard no longer trimmed and tidy, wild tufts across his face, barely hiding the dried blood, pale skin and sunken cheeks. His flesh was loose and fragile, she was afraid to hold his hand for fear of hurting him.

This was a husk of the man who raised her.

“What is it Mimi?” The childhood nickname, only he still called her that.

She wiped the sudden dampness from her face. “Da. I cant. This, I just.” She stood to leave, and his hand gripped her wrist, strong as ever, holding her in place.

“You can, and you will.” Despite the rasping sounds with each inhale, his voice was firm, the rich baritone brokering no argument from his eldest and most willful child. “When I die.” She pulled away again. “When I die, that leaves you in charge. You have to keep them safe.”

His hand shook as he cupped her face, “Do you understand? Keep them safe. Keep our family together.” He laid back against the pillows, closing his eyes. “We gave up so much to be free. To give our children the freedom of choice we never had. The sins on my soul to keep you safe.”

“Forgive me. I did it out of love.” A tear rolled down his cheek slowly.

“Da. I don’t understand. Theres nothing to forgive.” She didn’t bother to wipe away her tears this time, fingers curled into fists on the bed. She wished to the Maker she had been gifted with the ability to Heal, to fix this. “Da, you aren’t going to die. You’ll get better. You wont be sick anymore. You have to get better.”

A cough rattled in his chest and throat. “Not this time. No coming back from this.” His eyes closed, and he stilled, the faint noise the only indication Malcolm still lived.

“Daddy? No! Please! No.” She clung to him, just like she had as a young girl, face pressed his chest, sobbing as she prayed and pleaded.

His fingers tangled in her hair. “Shh. Its okay. I’ll be okay, I am going to the Maker’s side. My legacy is safe with you. I love you my daughter, please don’t ever forget that. My sweet little lightning bug.” He gasped one final time and then his body relaxed.

Malcolm Hawke was dead.


End file.
